No Peace Here

Philly blocks hum, sirens howl like a death chant,

Dreams rot in the gutter, streets forgiveness don’t grant.

Wilmington whispers, but the pain still speaks, shit is bleak.

Quiet killers hunt, fucking ops creep, with no signs of defeat.

Blood on the pavement, moonlight kiss the stains,

In Philly, war ain’t a choice — it’s hard wired in our brain.

Strings cry grief, piano mourns slow,

Two cities different, but both hell on show.

No peace here, just guns cocked and screams,

Life chewed up, spit out, crushed dreams.

From Philly to Wilm, it’s the same sick theme,

Ain’t no escape — you drowning in the scene.

Philly runs hot, fiends scratching in the night,

Powder cookin’ ambition, kids trapped in the fight.

Mothers bury sons, priests call it tradition,

Whole block numb, can’t see no vision.

Wilmington quiet, but the silence still kills,

Bodies laid cold in them dimly lit hills.

Dreams burn quick in a dope boy’s maze,

While mother's cries out while the motherfucking city decays.

No peace here, just guns cocked and screams,

Life chewed up, spit out, crushed dreams.

From Philly to Wilm, it’s the same sick theme,

Ain’t no escape — you drowning in the scene.

Sirens don’t stop, they just fade in your head,

Another fucking mother cries while her child goes dead.

Streets don’t love, they just chew up your name,

Only thing promised is a motherfucking coffin or shame.

Two cities, one curse, same story, different block,

Same crooked sky, same blood on the clock.

You either push weight or pray you don’t starve,

Either load clips or dig graves in the yard.

Hope feels fake when the church bells ring,

While these damn corner boys hustle, hoping death don’t sting.

A symphony of struggle, no silence, just war,

Once you breathe these streets, you ain’t pure no more.

No peace here, just guns cocked and screams,

Life chewed up, spit out, crushed dreams.

From Philly to Wilm, it’s the same sick theme,

Ain’t no escape — you drowning in the scene.

Fucking Dreams don’t live here, they fucking overdose and fade,

Every corner’s a trap, so wise up, learn life or death the trade,

Hope buried deep where the candles melt slow,

You either die fast… or learn to make that pistol blow.

Look close, see the city in the mirror — it’s you.

A reflection of the pain, the lies, the truth.

Sirens your lullaby, gunshots your song,

And if you think you different… you been dead all along.